


Emotional Support Snake

by obaewankenope (rexthranduil)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: "You're going to be on the paperwork" is code for married fight me, Aziraphale loves a loophole as much as Crowley does, Crowley as a snake on Aziraphale's arm, Emotional Support Snake, Gabriel being Gabriel but a little less douchy for once, M/M, Miracles do happen after all, ineffable husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 04:53:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19166209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexthranduil/pseuds/obaewankenope
Summary: Gabriel peers at the snake for far too long and Aziraphale is so close to babbling inanely about anything—books, books are good material to babble on about, he can babble about books for days—to stop himself from admitting the truth.





	Emotional Support Snake

**Author's Note:**

> When you see an ask someone answers about Aziraphale using "sir that is my emotional support snake" as an excuse to Gabriel and you just can't ignore it...this is what happens.

Gabriel peers at the snake for far too long and Aziraphale is so close to babbling inanely about anything—books, books are good material to babble on about, he can babble about books for days—to stop himself from admitting the truth. Although, it technically _is_ the truth that Crowley-as-a-snake is supportive and has helped him at times and been there when Aziraphale has felt rather down about matters and needed something to distract him. The crepes in Paris after that nasty reign of terror business was one of those distractions Crowley was _ever so good_ at.

So yes, Aziraphale is panicking a little and so very close to babbling to distract—annoy—Gabriel into leaving when the archangel huffs out a surprised sound and shakes his head.

"You are a strange angel, Aziraphale." Gabriel comments, looking at him with those very odd, distant and otherworldly eyes. Aziraphale knows his own eyes are just a little bit too bright, show a little bit too much light, and he has considered sunglasses and contact lenses in the past like Crowley, but he's always dismissed the idea as pointlessly vain. He's fine enough and he _likes_ seeing his eyes. They're very expressive.

Gabriel's are not expressive. Not really. It's sort of trying to see individual electrons in a bolt of lightning. Very much impossible but if you stare at the lightning long enough you see echoes in your vision and can taste sparks on your tongue. The illusion is as close as you get to it.

Crowley-as-a-snake slithers up his arm and Aziraphale startles, his wings ruffling in the plane they rest in unless he calls them into being. Gabriel, like any angel, can see his wings and notes the ruffle. The archangel smirks. He must figure it for surprise.

"Don't forget to send you annual review up to head office before the end of the month, Aziraphale." Aziraphale nods vigorously at Gabriel's words. "Don't forget to include the support snake in you work requirements."

Aziraphale blinks. Was that—did Gabriel—the archangel Gabriel, messenger of God, just made a _joke._

Maybe he's a little bit too shocked, maybe he's just far too used to being given orders and following them to avoid too much attention, but Aziraphale nods and politely directs Gabriel out of his bookshop on automatic. His mind is in some level of shock.

Perhaps this is what humans call brain freeze?

The moment Gabriel is no longer on earth—a sensation Aziraphale knows in his core just as surely as he knows when somewhere is loved—Crowley slithers off his arm and transforms back to his human form.

The demon's skin is a little more scaly than usual, owing to the speed of his transformations to a snake and from a snake. Transformations of the physical form are difficult for most celestial beings to perform; Aziraphale certainly can't manage it and he's a principality. Crowley is probably the only demon who's proficient at the transformation.

"Gabriel got a sense of humour at some point did he?" Crowley asks sarcastically, sprawling on his sofa in Aziraphale's shop like he owns the place. To be entirely honest, he kind of does. The bookshop wouldn't exist had it not been for some demonic miracles in the past by Crowley that the demon thought Aziraphale didn't know about.

"Apparently." Aziraphale looks at the demon. "I must confess to being more than a little confused by that." 

Crowley snortz. "Gabriel getting a sense of humour is more world ending than the actual end of the world," he jokes, twirling his fingers and a bottle appears in his hand. "Might as well toast to it."

Aziraphale chuckles softly. "I suppose."

He sits down beside Crowley, not as concerned with their proximity as he has been in the entirety of their time on earth together. If Crowley is uncomfortable with how close Aziraphale sits to him, the demon doesn't voice it. So the angel shifts closer, using his own power to miracle them some glasses.

"To Gabriel's sense of humour," he jokes, raising his glass with amber liquid in it for Crowley to clink his glass against.

"To humour," Crowley says, smirking.

The glasses clink and Aziraphale moves. His presses lips to lips, gentle but firm and kind.

Crowley freezes for the longest microsecond in the history of creation before he reacts. He pushes against Aziraphale, the glasses forgotten, probably miracled out of the way but neither of them care about the glasses enough to consider them. Hands reach out and pulls on material, pale cream and charcoal black, drawing bodies closer. They don't need to breathe but passion draws their bodies flush against each other and lips part to improve angles and nibble on soft skin and press kisses to salty skin on necks exposed for pleasure. 

Then it stops.

"What was that?" The demon demands staring at Aziraphale who reaches up and removes those sunglasses hiding the demon's expressive eyes from view.

Crowley's eyes are expressive, slitted as they are, and it's one of the reasons the demon embraced glasses with tinted lenses the moment they came into being by human hands. Crowley is a demon and demons couldn't care. But Crowley does and he can't _stop_ _caring_ so he chooses to hide it.

Only Aziraphale sees his eyes like this, sees truth in the demon's gaze, the expression always misconstrued by sunglasses that disabused viewers of any kind intentions. Well, everyone but Aziraphale.

"Well," Aziraphale begins, voice soft and quiet and ever so polite. "I have, well, what I mean to say is—that is—oh, my dear Crowley, I love you and now I can show you."

"W-what?" Crowley croaks, voice breaking a little and Aziraphale smiles so _gently_ at the demon.

"You heard Gabriel," he says, a slightly mischievous glint gleaming in his eyes. Crowley nods.

"I heard him," he repeats, but it's clear the demon's doesn't follow.

Aziraphale's smile widens from gentle to amused fondness.

"You're my support snake," Aziraphale explains, leaning in to bring his face as close to Crowley's as possible without touching. The demon's eyes are wide, lips parted, and his chest heaves even though he needs to breathe as much as Aziraphale does—not at all. "You're going to be on the paperwork."

Crowley blinks. Then he smirks.

"Oh, well then," he drawls, eyes lighting up with the same sort of light Aziraphale's possess, a light demons shouldn't really have at all. But, then, Crowley has always been different. "I guess that's alright then."

The distance is closed and somewhere up in heaven, Gabriel the archangel has the strangest feeling that he's fucked up. Not in a bad way, but in a way that feels, right at his core, like it's going to end badly for him at some point in the future.

The archangel scoffs. Impossible. Everything is going according to plan. Nothing is wrong. Not one single thing.

Of course, everything _is_ going to plan, just not necessarily the Great Plan of heaven and hell. But that's for the Almighty to know about.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Aziraphale can totally be more assertive if he Knows its Good and Okay. Thus, loving Crowley is Okay Now. Crowley isn't going to complain, pining boi that he is.


End file.
